clock menu more-arrow no yes mobile

Filed under:


We try not to obsess over recruting here. Signing Day is a big deal to us and we usually have some chatter regarding this prospect or that prospect, but we do what it takes to avoid this becoming another Spirit message board. Also, getting that worked up over decisions made by 17-year-old boys is creepy. But, all of that considered, a rare occasion presents itself where we see a prospect's profile on Rivals or Scout and think, "we have got to get this fuckin' guy!"

Just this morning, such an occasion happened twice. First, meet Watts Dantzler:

Dantzler, a four-star tackle prospect out of Georgia, is the kind of guy who is never the weak link. I look at this picture, and I think "man, this guy must be strong--like, strong enough to lift heavy, I dunno, chains or something and just toss them 'round his neck, tossing his nonchalant face back as if the chains were his freshly used towel and he, a world-class athlete, was just hangin' out in the locker room and floppin' a little dong." Tough, durable, possesing great tensile strength, useful, rattly: these are all terms we can use for a rare, beautiful tackle like Walts Dantzler.
Just picture him in a Rebel uniform, manning the trenches with a stalwart determination, pulling, trucking, and holding large gates shut. I know such a high-caliber prospect out of the Peachtree State may seem like a bit of a pipe dream for we Rebs but, dream no more.


Next on the "WE BETTER SIGN THIS PERFECT SPECIMEN OF HUMANITY" list is the hard hitting (on trashy girls) safety Ryan Lopez of Henderson, Nevada. Bask:



Swoll patrol, bitchasses. He is five foot ten, one-hundred sixty-five pounds, and one billion percent beefcake. Don't step too close to Mr. Lopez, lest you get caught in a whirlwind of gnashing teeth, scraping claws, and man-flesh. That hat? Headgear of royalty. That necklace? Satan's choke collar. That beard? A lovemaking bulldozer. When I look at Ryan Lopez, I see a man who can't be confined by things of the mortal realm--clothing, his kitchen, a non-grimacing facial expression. I see fury. I see badass. I see a brohemoth of epical brobrortions.

And I want it on my football team.

Oh, and he drives a Mitsubishi. Top that, n00b.